Double Potions
by Zachere
Summary: Unconventional pairing, anyone? If you've just read Portraits, don't read this and expect to see the same level of quality. Written preOotp, and just silly in premise.


  
_"No matter how astonishing the result of mixing two potions may be to the unthoughtful brewer, rest assured that logic always rules the final product." - Professor Snape, Potions Master_   


  
It was never more cool in the dungeons than on a bitingly cold January evening. The hearth by Professor Snape's desk lay empty and cold, but that was certainly nothing unusual. If asked about his laboratory's lack of warmth, he would have said that potions kept their potency longer when kept chilled- if he replied at all.   
If he had been a more introspective man he might have admitted to himself that he avoided comfort, that his sins demanded such penance that he could not help taking grim satisfaction out of shivering alone in an empty classroom. But he was not an introspective man, and for good reason. Painful memories flew at him often enough in unguarded moments that he knew better than to go stirring the depths of his mind on purpose.   
So he did not clutch his cloak closely around him or huddle near the fire that simmered under the great cauldron he tended, the cauldron so large that it banished him from his office to the students' laboratory in search of space.   
Instead he graded assignments at his desk, fingers cold but nevertheless smoothly inscribing his comments onto parchment. Well occupied he was, grading papers, watching the large cauldron for the golden sparks that would indicate that the potion was completed, and keeping an eye on a row of tiny open flasks that edged his desk. One of the flasks wiggled even as he glanced at it, and he knew it would soon be finished and ready for the stopper.   
He bent his head to the paper in front of him just as a great fountain of sparks rose gently from the large cauldron.   
Moments later, he peered into it and pronounced it done, giving it one last brisk stir with a ladle before extinguishing the flames beneath it. He would bottle it before taking it to Madame Pomfrey, but not before the other potion had set- that one needed too much watching. He eyed the Chest-Warming Potion disdainfully- to be honest, it was beneath his skills. But he hadn't had any students needing detentions that day, and besides, it was a good opportunity to get some other work done without interruption. Far too many people dared to bother him in his office, but only the most persistent would find him here.   
A tap on the classroom door disabused him of the notion that none would be that persistent that night, and he said, "Enter," perhaps more sharply than he normally would have.   
His mood darkened even further as the door swung open to reveal Hermione Granger, one of his least favorite seventh year students. All Gryffindor students were low on his list, but her friendship with Harry Potter and the irritating way she showed off in his classes put her right at the bottom.   
She clutched a scroll in one hand, wearing a pained expression of determination that he was long familiar with. He smiled to himself. It was a look he was long familiar with. She often brought him her assignments weeks in advance for comments, and the fact that he had assigned the particular homework she was no doubt wanting him to look over only the day before made him want to snarl. Bad enough that he found her personality and her friends insufferable, but she had the nerve to work twice as hard as even his best students. It galled him.   
Looking at her, he felt a dim sort of satisfaction that she not enjoying her diligence- her hair was even more bushy than usual, and her eyes were rimmed with red, suggesting that she had caught the cold that was flying through the rest of the student body. She suppressed a cough as he looked at her, said, "Professor Snape, I was wondering if you could-" and stopped as he interrupted her.   
"You would like me to forget that I am exceedingly busy and drop everything I am working on to pore over another scroll of your cramped handwriting, I imagine." Hermione blushed but took on a more determined air than ever. Behind him, one of the flasks on his desk jerked, leapt into the air, and began to dance about the room. "Well," he began, but this time she interrupted him- with an explosive sneeze. This heralded a series of coughs that bent her double.   
"Miss Granger," he said. "One would think that with all your _brilliance_," and she missed his sneer, still coughing, "you would have the sense to stay in bed while you were ill."   
"I'm sorry," she managed before bending again to the whim of her lungs. Her racking coughs masked the small sound of the flask splashing into the great cauldron as it suddenly lost its altitude.   
Snape turned, snatched up a clean beaker, and ladled a moderate amount of the Chest-Warming Draught into it. He walked to Hermione and held it out to her. She managed to suppress her coughing long enough to give him a suspicious look, and he found himself snarling.   
"Chest-Warming Draught," he said with as much chill and disdain as he could muster. "Drink it."   
She continued to look at him blearily, and he lost all patience. "What, you think I would poison you? Be assured, if I were to do so I certainly would not do it here in my own classroom." He downed the contents of the beaker as proof and ladled more potion into a fresh beaker.   
This she accepted, and sipped carefully.   
As he watched her reaction, he felt the potion begin to take effect. Warmth shot through his body and his limbs tingled. After a moment, he noticed that his breathing came lightly and easily. As he wasn't even sick, it was a good indication that the potion worked.   
Hermione straightened after a moment, and looked impressed. "Thank you, Professor," she said, and her eyes were wide. "It's amazing how fast it worked."   
He waved her off. "It's a simple potion. Even Filch could make it, I suspect." Her eyes widened even further as she realized that he was joking and he held his hand out for the scroll she carried. "I might as well look at that now. This potion will keep for a moment. Sit." He pointed at the nearest workbench.   
She did so, and he leaned on the bench and read the assignment over, quill flying as he noticed various things and commented on them. It took only a few minutes, and he did not notice that he was humming under his breath or that his brain was clouded by a rising euphoria. Or that Hermione was staring at him.   
Finished, he stood, and smiled at her. "Good work, Miss Granger." Finally, he noticed the odd expression on her face. "Are you all right?"   
She nodded, and he noticed that her lips were parted. The realization sent tingles through his limbs again, and he was suddenly very aware of her perfume, light and sweet. He made to hand back her scroll and felt the shock when their fingers brushed. And another shock when she dropped the scroll, and yet another when he realized their fingers were twined.   
He found himself thinking that he rather liked her hair, the wildness of it. He felt her gaze on him- it was like sunlight. She smiled at him, bemused, and then his fingers were in her hair and her arms were around him and her mouth was on his.   
Their toes merely brushed the ground and a small panicked voice in his head said urgently, _The Levitation Potion. _And the part of his mind that was not totally engrossed in kissing Hermione's neck understood what had happened and knew what to do. His free hand reached into his robes for his wand, turned it toward Hermione, and he muttered, "Finite incantatum."   
Hermione sagged against him and seemed to become shorter as she regained the floor. Her mouth opened in shock, but before she could say anything he murmured, "Obliviate."   
Quickly he stooped to retrieve the fallen scroll and managed to muster enough self-control, presence of mind, and sharpness of voice to say, "And clumsy as well. Go on now. Get back to your common room before you infect me with whatever germ it is you have."   
She took the scroll from him and said, "Thank you, Professor." He was preoccupied with not attempting to wrap his body around hers, and an annoyed sound was her only farewell.   
As soon as she was gone he dumped out the altered Chest-Warming Draught and started a new batch. There was no way he could send a love potion up to the hospital wing, however well it also happened to work on coughs.   
Then he set about gathering the rest of the now-floating bottles of Levitation Potion out of the air. By the time he had caught and stoppered all of them, the new Chest-Warming Draught was simmering nicely.   
He sat at his desk, vaguely aware that when the effects of the potion wore off he would be horrified and disgusted at what had just happened. But he still felt the euphoria, still wished that Hermione had stayed, still remembered the taste of her mouth.   
He took out his wand and gazed at it for a moment.   
"Obliviate," he said, pointing it at his own chest.   
Professor Snape bent his head once again to the papers in front of him. After a while he got up and lit a fire.  
  
Hermione entered the Gryffindor common room and spied Ron and Harry sitting at a table engrossed in a game of wizard's chess. Ron saw her first, and grinned.   
"You look a lot better," he said warmly. She kissed him on the cheek and smiled at his resulting blush. "How did it go with Snapey?"   
She waved the scroll under his nose playfully. "It was weird- take a look at this." She showed him the scroll, marked in several places by Snape's quill, and Ron's eyebrows shot up.   
"Wow," he said. "Excellent. Good point. Perfect." He looked at her. "Think he's in love with you or something?"   
She laughed. "I think he just must have liked the potion I did my report on. Levitation Potion."   
Ron smiled and pulled her into his lap, much to the annoyance of Harry, who just wanted to play chess. "So he didn't ravish you or anything?" he asked in a mock jealous tone.   
"Nope, he was his usual unpleasant self," she said, remembering only his words.  



End file.
